


Winter, Roses and Vengeance

by Keystoffees



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), Star Trek Into Darkness - Fandom
Genre: Big Dick and Big John, Captivity, Castles, Cumberbatch, Dreams and flashbacks, F/M, Horseback Riding, Manor Houses, Medieval Khan, Middle Ages, Sexual Tension, Shakespeare's Richard III, Sheepskins, Smut, This could get smutty, Who Am I Kidding?, Who is better?, ale, cumbersmut, hopefully not too confusing, khan - Freeform, khan in breeches, oh so tight, very smutty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-23 08:49:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2541605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keystoffees/pseuds/Keystoffees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Richard III stares at you, steely-eyed, as his horse draws nearer through the trees, slowing to a stop a few feet from where you stand. Khan tightens his grip on your arm and you hear the hiss of breath through his teeth as he squares his shoulders and pushes his chest out in annoyance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a new challenge for me. Constructive comments welcome :)

King Richard III stares at you, steely-eyed, as his horse draws nearer through the trees, slowing to a stop a few feet from where you stand. Khan tightens his grip on your arm and you hear the hiss of breath through his teeth as he squares his shoulders and pushes his chest out in annoyance. 

The handsome king dismounts and appears deep in thought as he removes his fur cloak, his brows furrowed and his attractive mouth pinched and set in a determined line. You turn to look at Khan, standing to your right, his jaw set tightly, his own anger evident. He ignores your movement and your eyes dart back to Richard, now stalking towards the two of you. 

Your pulse begins to race and you can't help but glance down to take in the king's lean body before you stare at the leaf-covered ground and listen to the blood rushing around your head. 

**********

You blink into the flickering sunlight as it streams through the gently swaying branches, forming elongated stars in the corners of your eyes as you adjust to the brightness. You swallow as you become aware of feathery touches across your middle, running tiny circles over your bare skin, and your right nipple is suddenly warm, enclosed by a gentle mouth and teased by an eager tongue. 

**********

Kirby Muxloe Castle, Leicestershire, 1485

I woke to the sound of hooves, thundering closer across the autumn ground, the rumble carrying for miles as they approached over the fields. It was early. Dawn was beginning to appear through the mist as I peered out of the tiny window, scanning for the riders who had prised me from yet another dream. There was no sign of my enigmatic captor. 

I washed in the pail of water hanging over the newly-built fire; burning as I found it every morning. A fire lit before sunrise and clean water for me to take care of myself. I couldn't remember if I was used to encountering this level of luxury before I came here, but then I couldn't remember much about my life before I rose and slept in these rooms.

Dressing in the clean underclothes and gown left out for me, I twisted my hair and pinned it in place carefully. Fresh bread, fruit and small ale were waiting for me in the adjoining room, along with a new selection of books. I had finished the previous recommendations and we had discussed them at length the previous day, when he had been animated and opinionated, and deliciously crushed by defeat at word games. 

The bolt across the door, it's outline now etched on my memory from hours of staring, aching for it to move, was now sliding rapidly; scraping metal against metal, the telltale creak of the hinges securing my attention, drawn away from the voices outside the window. My eyes fixed tight on the opening as it widened and the now familiar sight of my captor appeared. As always, dressed entirely in black, he strode into the room, nodding to me and curving his plump pink lips into a half-smile. No longer an immediate threat to my safety and given our recent exchanges of opinion, an interesting intellectual challenge. Although, I must be careful not to mock him, I thought, rubbing my wrist semi-consciously as I remembered a witty aside that he had certainly not found amusing. 

John. I knew him only as John. He would not tell me any more about himself and I no longer asked. After my first few attempts at inquiry fell on stubbornly deaf ears and deliberately closed posture, for months I had accepted his silence. Unsure what came before it, unwilling to address what might come after; I was comfortable and, I realised as I felt a tightening deep in my stomach, I looked forward to seeing him each day. 

He strode purposefully to the window, before turning on his heel to face me and clasping his long, elegant fingers behind his back. His soft leather boots rose seamlessly up to his tight breeches, woven from a fabric I did not recognise. A leather jerkin sat snugly over his cotton shirt and his jet black hair framed his aquamarine eyes, making them shine. His jaw clenched and his eyes came to rest on my face. I watched his expression soften then, his face momentarily clouded, giving rise to a further flip in my belly. I smiled up at him.

"Gather your things. We ride in one hour," he spoke slowly, enunciating perfectly and disarming me with the tone of his voice.

"Where are we going?" I ventured.

He turned again. Mouth set in a solid line, he gazed out of the window across to where the orange sun was beginning to peer above the trees, throwing a russet haze across the landscape and the rippling castle moat. 

"Bosworth," he hissed.


	2. Chapter 2

Just as he promised, one hour later I was astride a large black mare, John's muscular form pressed tightly behind me. Oddly, he did not express surprise at my refusal to ride side-saddle, merely quirking an eyebrow in silent approval before settling his steely gaze on the beast as I lifted my skirts and petticoats. I turned back to him once I had steadied myself; saw the fleeting flash of his blue eyes as I smoothed my clothing back down to cover my underthings as best I could. 

Now, as we rode, he embraced me. His muscular chest was pressed tightly at my back as I shifted my hips in time with the cantering animal, two strong arms around me, holding us both steady. Using a wider saddle more suited to battle, built to accommodate thick layers of armour, he had ensured he could accompany me as closely as possible for the ride and the two of us slotted into the leather seat as if it had been moulded around us. The insides of John's knees rubbed at my thighs with every movement the animal made and he let his forearms come to rest on my legs as he held the reigns with jet black leather gloves. 

I let the cool breeze refresh my face as we pressed on, John abandoning the well worn roads in favour of secluded, wooded paths. Two riders from the group I had observed earlier in the morning were following some distance behind. 

My mind wandered as I tried not to think about our destination. Now, after months of being held by him, I might finally find out what his reasons were for taking me. Although I recalled nothing about my life before him, or indeed the events of my taking, I understood enough to know that this was not always how my life had been. I knew my twenty six years had involved events and people other than John. But I felt so detached I could barely care. He had somehow blinkered me, despite my instincts to the contrary. 

I thought about the dream I had been woken from a few hours earlier. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the scent of leather and the strong man behind me. Visions of a mouth; a full bottom lip and impossibly angled Cupid's bow, familiar and soft, closing around my fingers, swirled around my head as I felt his thighs tense and a subtle twitch at the small of my back. 

The dream came to me frequently. Indeed, not every night, but it was far from unusual for me to wake, perspiration glistening on my skin and a delicious ache between my legs, after one or other of the scenarios played out as I slept. Often, I was under the shade of an oak tree canopy. Sometimes ensconced on pillows, silk sheets billowing around me. Once, I was cramped in the hull of a boat with nothing but clear blue skies in view. It wasn't John; couldn't be John I was witnessing as he ghosted a fingertip trail across my bare skin in my dreams. Surely not my powerful captor whose tongue was skilled enough to rouse me from sleep as I moaned at the throbbing of my core as I felt him make contact. Sometimes I woke to find my own hand jammed between my legs and would finish what my dream companion had started as quietly as possible.

Yet I felt a connection every time I looked at him. The eyes. The mouth. On one occasion a month ago, I had woken with a moan on my lips and a dark shadow in the room. Standing just out of my view, John had silently escaped when I pretended I had not seen him, instead wrapping myself tightly in my sheet and closing my eyes in the hope that sleep would come back. Or had I hoped he would join me? 

I shook my head slightly and refocused my gaze on the horizon. John squeezed his arms protectively in response. 

We rode in silence until we reached the outskirts of a village. I could see a collection of houses in the distance, following the path of the road we had joined a mile or so ago. The horse slowed and pulled up outside a tiny cottage, smoke already snaking out of the chimney despite the early hour and warm autumn air. John dismounted and nodded at our companions, who remained in their saddles and acknowledged him, before heading towards an ale house in the direction of the village.

John held his hand out for me to jump down, again averting his eyes from my body as I swung my right leg backwards and slid down the side of the magnificent animal to the ground. My legs felt shaky from the ride and I fought to keep my balance as he took my hand in his grasp. 

I looked up at the cottage. Single storeyed and sparse, it certainly looked secure, and I smiled as I remembered that I was, after all, John's prisoner. 

He unlocked the heavy front door and ushered me inside, glancing around him as he did, before slamming it shut and bolting it, sealing the pair of us inside.


	3. Chapter 3

While John tended to the fire, I poured two mugs of ale and sat on the chaise by one of the narrow windows, with a view towards the pretty garden. A host of wild flowers swayed in the breeze and I considered asking John why we were here. 

He straightened at my words, his long back tensing, shoulders rolling back as he clenched his jaw tightly. 

"To reacquaint with an old friend," he said slowly.

"I don't remember any old friends, John," I replied. Suddenly, I felt a sadness for the life I didn't know I had left behind. "I don't remember anything."

"That matters not," John said. "This person remembers you... well." He turned around to face me, reaching for his ale and downing the contents.

"Then I have no choice?" 

"You have some influence in the course of events, certainly. But you would be wise to listen to my instructions along the way. If you value your life." 

I nodded stiffly, sipping my ale and running through as many scenarios as I could think of. I would have to heed his words, even if I didn't like them. I was not helpless, but I knew I was reliant on this man in many ways, not least of all because I did not know who we would encounter, or when. 

John spent some time checking over his swords and battle daggers, which I couldn't recall as being part of the ride. I watched the intense look on his face as he turned the blades over in his hands, running his fingers gently along the shafts to check for any imperfections in the metal that might place him in danger. His hands were large, with long fingers and strong, solid palms and watching his delicate thumbs press lightly into the steel, I felt hypnotised. 

I realised the entire cottage had been set up for our arrival, weapons ready and waiting for him. I peered over towards the door leading to the adjoining room and wondered what he had hidden in there. But, it seemed useless to press him on his plans. Having attempted, and failed, to engage him, I settled for some thoughts on a manuscript he had recently brought me to read. John was easily drawn in to the discussion, looking up every so often to hold my gaze while I chipped away, successfully, at his thoughts.

As dusk grew nearer, John seemed to relax. We ate the simple meal that had been left for us, alternating between sharing our thoughts and periods of silence that made my head swim with the growing, unacknowlegded tension.

After so many months imprisoned inside the castle, I found the ride in the fresh air had left me feeling invigorated, although somewhat exhausted. Once the sun had disappeared and John was, for once, seated and appeared comfortable that I would not try to escape, I pushed open the door to the small bedroom that adjoined our living quarters. When John rose to follow me, I turned to look at him, our eyes meeting, a hundred words not said. 

"I will ensure the fire is adequate before you retire," he said with a growing smirk. 

The bed took up almost the entire room, leaving only space for an open fireplace, and was covered with expensive fabric. The thought that a basic hunter's cottage like this should be furnished with such extravagance ran briefly through my mind, but I was too exhausted to process it properly and when John left me alone, I found myself dropping my outer gown on the floor and crawling between the sheets. I lay on my side and stared into the flames as they danced and flickered and in the last clutches of consciousness I saw his face. He wore a crown.

**********  
I let my head fall back as wet lips pushed against the skin on my neck. I felt the sensation intensify between my legs as I tensed my thighs together, as his tongue traced a line across my collar bone and his fingers curved up and around my breast. I moaned softly and felt the tightness across my chest increase. His eyes bore into me from the fire grate, commanding and powerful and yet desperate, pleading. I tried to put my hand out to touch his face, to feel his lips beneath my fingertips, but I couldn't move. 

**********  
Emerging, panicked and confused, from sleep, I moved my head and fought against my dream world as it tried to pull me back. I felt the dampness at the top of my thighs, the familiar sweat that had formed in beads on my stomach, but I couldn't move my arms. I tried to stretch, lifting my arms and opening my eyes into the near darkness. 

A deep voice whispered next to my ear; comforting, quieting noises. The grip around my shoulders loosened slightly and he reached down to press his palm flat against my middle. I turned my head and saw John's face lit by the embers of the fire, eyes heavy-lidded from sleep. He was laid next to me on the small bed, so close I could feel the length of his body pressed up tightly at my back.

I turned back towards the fire as I wondered why I wasn't scared, why I wasn't trying to move away from his strong embrace. I closed my eyes again.

"You are bothered by your dreams?" he asked in a low whisper, his breath lifting a few whisps of hair that had come free and tickling my cheek as I lay on my side. 

I nodded into the sheets. My skin tingled with his prescence. I could feel every inch of his body that was in contact with my own and it was increasing the pressure I could feel at my core. I felt my own fluid as it pooled between my legs and as I took a hitched breath I caught the scent, serving only to cruelly heighten my arousal. I knew my breathing was increasing and slowly, gently, I moved a hand to reach backwards, placing it on the hard, muscular hip that lay next to me. 

Although he was still clothed, I felt John's involuntary response as his cock twitched at my behind and he moaned quietly into my shoulder. The hand that had been pushing gently into my abdomen slid slowly down my body towards my sex, gathering the fabric of my undergown between his fingers and gently cupping my mound, curling those long fingers, seeking out my wetness. I whispered his name silently as I felt a finger part me softly and slide effortlessly against my clit. I leant back against him, widening the gap between my legs to give him the access I was desperate for. 

John lifted his head and planted his moist lips against my bare neck, kissing me slowly and deliberately. Lifting the arm I was resting on his hip, he lay it down above my head and I leaned my head back so I was almost facing him. His mouth met mine in a hot mess of lips and tongues and as his fingers crawled against my swollen clit I rolled my hips, into his hand and back so that I felt his erection as it strained against his breeches. 

He lifted my body slightly so he could slide his other arm underneath me and bring me to rest against his chest. He found my breast and teased at my left nipple, gently circling it with his fingertip while his other hand ran a figure of eight over my sex. I knew I would soon finish and I let out a breathy sigh as he seemed to realise it too. 

"Come," he muttered into my skin as he made small thrusts of his own hips against my back. Grasping my breast in his whole hand, he squeezed gently, while the friction on my clit became too much and my orgasm overtook me, my juices coating his hand and my legs as I shook and hissed into the darkness. 

Moments later, John drew back and began to unbuckle his pants with shaking hands and a steely gaze I was unafraid to meet in the dim light of this simple chamber.


	4. Chapter 4

I arched my back to meet his deep thrusts as I held on to his strong, broad shoulders. 

He had divested me of my thin under gown and removed his own clothing while never once taking his eyes off my face. His thick black hair had fallen across his face and it framed his eyes perfectly in the dim orange light from the almost dead fire. When he entered me, he had let out a moan so deep it had sent a shiver down my spine and I caught my breath as he bent to kiss my breasts slowly, seeming to savour every sensation as my nipples swelled and hardened under his tongue. 

Now, John was panting, staring down at me while his chest rose and fell and his stomach muscles quivered with the effort as he held himself up on his arms. He rocked his hips, tilting up just as he filled me completely, rubbing against my sensitive core, driving us both closer to release. 

Months of desire, denied for so long, came flooding out. I cried out his name as he flicked my nipple with his warm, wet tongue and I felt my cunt contract around his hardness as he drove it into me, thrust after agonising thrust. As he wrung the last of my orgasm from me and my clouded eyes cleared, I saw his face contort into beautiful ecstasy just as he grabbed my bottom and pulled me even closer, wrapping long fingers over my skin and giving a hint of the dominant lover I had long imagined he would be. 

Pulsing into me, he groaned and swore as he momentarily lost control and broke eye contact while he came, lost in his own pleasure.

Without speaking, John gently lay down next to me, covering me tenderly with the bed sheets and wrapping both of his strong arms around my cooling body. I fell into an exhausted, satisifed sleep, and I did not dream.

**********  
When I woke again, the sun had already risen. The absence of John's warm embrace surprised and confused me, until I saw that he was crouched by the fire, silently building it back up. He turned to face me when he heard my movements, crawling the two feet across the floor to meet my lips with his own. His mouth was warm and soft, salty, musky and immediately I felt desire pooling deep in my belly once again. 

As he pulled away, I lay back and wondered if this had always been his plan. Had he felt our connection these last few weeks and months, or had he simply been overcome by a primal instinct?

He dressed and disappeared into the main room of the cottage, returning with ale and bread, handing it to me with another of his smirks, the corners of his mouth upturned, although this time his smile did reach his eyes. 

I ate gratefully and quickly, my appetite having increased considerably since our nocturnal activity. I had slept soundly after, and for the rest of the night I had not been haunted by my dreams. I suddenly remembered the vision I had seen in the fire the previous night. 

"You are lost in thought again," John asked me softly, brushing a hand across my cheek. "Please, my love, do not ask me to tell you," he said sadly. 

"John," I began. "Last night, I did have the dream. Before I woke and you- we- did that." I smiled at him, because I didn't know how to describe it. John was holding me prisoner, and yet he had made love to me, and I him. It made little sense.

I continued; "I saw your face, John. Before I fell asleep, I saw your face." 

John stared at me, blue eyes piercing my soul as I fought to describe why this was troubling me. 

"You were wearing a crown."

John's posture suddenly altered. His shoulders stiffened, his chest grew tight and his hands curled into fists as my words rang in my ears and I regretted having uttered them. 

He flew into a rage, his face flushed with anger as he knocked the goblet of ale out of my hand, spilling the remaining contents across the floorboards. His arm came up to my own and he grabbed my wrist tightly, pushing me back against the bed as I stared up at this changed creature. He held my gaze for what felt like many minutes, searching my eyes for something more; an explanation, which I couldn't give. 

My heart pound in my chest and I tried to twist my arm away from his strong grip, but it was no good. I lay looking at him, torn between desperately needing to feel those soft lips on my skin once again and fighting the reflex response to panic at his anger. I succeeded and lifted my head to lick at his mouth confidently with my tongue. 

His face betrayed a small softening at my bravery. 

Closing his eyes, he reached down to my other arm and slowly lifted it so that my hands met above my head, and he held them there with his left hand, threading his long fingers through mine. I squeezed his hand slightly and moved my legs slowly apart. 

Filled with lust all over again, he quickly tore his buckle apart and pulled his cock out, palming it in his free hand and tugging aggressively on it, rolling his shoulders forward and looking down at himself as he did. His lips crashed against mine once again and he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, nipping at me with his teeth and nudging my legs further apart with his hips. 

Releasing a loud roar, he plunged into me, not waiting to feel if I was ready, not allowing me any time to adjust to his considerable length and girth. I screamed at the intrusion and he responded by pinching my left nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I struggled against his tight grip on my wrists and he only held them harder. 

I lifted my hips to meet his as he fucked me harder and harder, grunting and panting with the sudden exertion, his breeches still around his waist, shirt hanging open. His thumb ground impatiently at the coarse hair between my legs, parting my damp folds before he found my glistening clit and rubbed hard. His hand left my breast and pushed my leg up, forcing my knee up towards my chin.

I sang out into the room as I came in seconds and John thrust erratically into me until he shouted my name loudly, collapsing onto my fevered body as he lost control for the second time in hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you are enjoying this! 
> 
> Small break now this week; there should be more next weekend.
> 
> X


	5. Chapter 5

John had retreated, away from the morning sun as it streamed in through the windows and away from me. Scraping his weapons across the flagstones, he busied himself as if readying for battle. I dressed, careful not to touch the inflamed red sores forming across my inner thighs where his fingers had almost punctured my skin while he roared his release and his piercing blue eyes had burned into my heart. I didn't know which of his punishing actions had caused me most pain. 

As I emerged from the bed chamber, he refused to meet my eyes, instead choosing to scowl at his sword as he sheathed it and gathered the rest of his belongings. 

"Come," he instructed me, and I followed him out into the morning air. 

The sunlight hit my face and I squinted against it as I saw our companions from the previous day already saddled and staring at us both. I took John's hand as he pulled me up onto the horse and gripped me tightly around my waist with one strong arm. His hand burned against the thick cloth of my dress and I felt his fingertips twitch against me as he pulled on the reigns in his other hand and we began to move.

I couldn't escape the feeling of dread as we set off. I was confused by John's apparent emotional outpouring during the night when he had been gentle and, in his own way, loving, and his subsequent change in mood again. I had clearly caused a switch in his mood when I spoke of the crown and the bruises around my breasts were proof. I couldn't fathom the visions, or why I had been having them for so long, but I now knew he had strong feelings about them. I rubbed at the mark he had left on my neck.

We rode for half an hour before pulling up to a large, half-timbered manor house, flanked by tall hedgerows and large oak trees. Our companion riders had stopped at the end of the drive and were looking out at the path we had just trampled down. John tethered the horse and took a firm grasp on my wrist, pulling me down from the horse quickly and clumsily. He maintained his defiance in meeting my eyes, set his mouth in a firm line and threw his balled fist against the heavy door. It rumbled and shook against his force and he took a deep breath through his nose, setting his shoulders back and pushing out his strong chest as he waited for a response. 

"The King," he snarled when a guard opened the door, "I need to see the King."

The guard stared at John as I watched. John's gaze seemed to penetrate the man's resolve and when he finally broke away from it his eyes drifted over my face and momentarily widened. He ushered us in then stopped in front of us, gesturing to another guard who stood to his side. Suddenly three more appeared in the great hallway, all with one hand on the weapons they carried within their belts. 

We were both held tightly and as John flinched and growled at the men, a further five or six joined us to make sure he did not overpower them. I felt sure he could easily have taken them, had he wanted to, and suddenly I wished I was underneath his warm body again, feeling the heat between my legs as he sheathed himself roughly inside me, over and over.

As we waited, I fought the panic rising in my chest and my heart, which thumped heavily against my ribs. Eventually, we were moved; dragged closely together across the floor to another large door and pulled into a large chamber. It was dark; despite the sun outside, the small windows were dirty and the room so vast that they shed little light on its occupants. My eyes took their time to adjust and settled on an enormous, wooden chair at the far end. A throne. 

 

I could just make out the piercing blue eyes that stared at me. It was a familiar scowl, a face set tightly, chin low against his dark animal-hide cloak, boots planted firmly on the floor as he waited. Staring intently, he watched as John and I moved closer and I could just make out his long fingers, curled around the arms of the great chair, gripping tightly. Aggression radiated from him and his eyes flickered between myself and John. As we neared him, he lifted one hand in gesture at the guards and we were stopped, before the men moved away in retreat, into the stone walls of this echoey hall. 

I opened my mouth and let out a shaky breath as I stared at him. It couldn't be. 

The crown.

It was the crown I had seen in the fire the previous night. The crown that had upset John so much he had fucked me until he was panting, hoarse and spent, and until I was sore and exhausted. 

I looked to my left to see John staring back at the man on the throne. Two identical expressions from two identical faces stared each other down, neither willing to submit to the other. 

I held my breath and I waited.


	6. Chapter 6

The two men stared at each other for what felt like hours. I could hear nothing except my own breathing, as my heart beat faster and the tension in the air around us grew. 

As the King's eyes moved steadily from John, over to me, he narrowed them, then widened them and drew a deep breath. His fingers twitched around the arms of the huge throne and his expression softened as he stared at me, reaching into my soul with his piercing gaze. I stood, unsure whether to turn away from his scrutiny, or remain defiant in the face of it. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards; the beginnings of a genuine smile were accompanied by the lifting of an eyebrow before he quickly stifled it. 

But it was too late. Somewhere, deep inside me, a ghost of a memory of that smile became real and I could do nothing except close my eyes and embrace it.

In that moment, I saw the dreams that had haunted me for months, all of them about this man. Under leafy trees and walking on lush green meadows. I felt the King's lips against my lips, his hands on the sensitive skin of my breasts and the curve of my belly. Those same hands had, I now knew, slid the fabric of my undergown over my shoulders, had buried themselves in my hair, had elicited pleasure from me, just as John had done the previous night. In fits and starts over a matter of seconds, my memories came flooding back and I wanted to reach out to the King again, to remember the feelings my heart had crushed. 

But, before I spoke, John took a step towards the King. Richard bristled and refocused his gaze on John, stiffening instantly at the man's movement. 

"I have brought her to you, in order to secure your promise that you will surrender the Crown to the house of Tudor." John spoke slowly, his deep voice rumbling around the chamber and echoing off the walls. 

The King waited for him to continue, his mouth forming a snarl as he heard the reference to his most hated enemy and challenger to the throne of England. But John did not speak again, instead staring straight at Richard, his statement hanging in the thick air. 

As he rose from the throne, the King's black cloak fell around his long, muscular legs. He straightened his back and pushed his shoulders and chest back in a warning to John. He dropped gracefully down the two flagstone steps and strode to stand directly in front of John, each man now as rigid and on edge as the other.

I turned and looked at the two men. The similarities between them were striking and disarming. John's hair was darker in colour and shorter, hanging loosely over his forehead in jet black shards. King Richard's body was hidden behind layers of regal cloth, but they were identical in height. I didn't know whether I should run, but my sudden remembrance that I had been intimate with the King - and therefore both these men - somehow prevented me, gluing me to the spot as the heady musk coming from them intrigued and excited me.

The King moved first. Stalking slowly around John, not once taking his eyes off the other man while his right hand rested on his sword as it lay sheathed at his hip, he regarded him fully. Reaching John's face once again, he stopped and drew nearer, so that I could barely see the daylight between two identical, beautifully straight noses in profile. 

"Never," Richard growled at John. 

John's eyes squinted at Richard's words as his breath hit his face. I watched him swallow confidently as he considered his next move. 

Seconds passed as they seemed to forget my presence entirely. I was all too aware of my breathing as it came deeper and quicker, as I tried to fight the feelings that were contradicting themselves, juxtaposing the need to discover more about the history I shared with Richard with a deep, unnerving desire to please John. 

As I stared at them I became aware of a small movement. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Richard running a hand - the hand that had been clutching his sword - slowly up the front of John's thigh. The King's long fingers trembled as John's expression barely registered an acknowledgement of the friction against the crotch of his breeches, but I felt the ache of desire begin to form inside me as I regarded them. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, and yet they stood a few feet away from me, entirely caught up in each other.

John lifted a hand to Richard's face and brushed the King's full mouth with his thumb, swiping over his bottom lip gently and resting his hand over Richard's jawbone. 

In unison, they turned to me. Inviting me to join in their apparent mutual infatuation, or signalling for me to leave, I couldn't be sure. I took a tentative step towards them and waited, holding my breath.

I lost all sense of my own location, as I was suddenly swept up in Richard's arms, my blue gown gathering behind my legs and hanging loosely at my side as his fingers wrapped themselves around my bare legs. I held on to his broad shoulders as he carried me quickly to the throne and seated me on it, forcing me to sit undecorously as he held my knees apart and continued to shift layers of fabric, pooling it around my middle while he scrambled depserately under my petticoats to reach my skin. 

I looked at Richard as he brought his graceful hand up to his mouth and slowly opened his lips, drawing his fingers across his tongue, licking them wet. Leaning forward as he kneeled between my legs, his eyes bore into mine as his lips crushed against me, kissing me deeply, exploring my mouth with a tenderness that made me certain this was not the first time. He held my face in one hand, cupping my chin as we entwined our tongues, while his other, wet with saliva, crawled in my lap. Seeking me out, his fingers dipped into my pussy as I squirmed against him, lifting my hips against his hand to increase the friction. 

Lost in the heady scent of the King coupled with my own arousal, I gripped the arms of the throne while he deftly elicited moans of pleasure from me. Twisting and rubbing, his fingers felt like fire against my engorged clit, and he knew when to change pace to drive me almost to the edge of climax before stopping me from tumbling over. 

As I ground my pelvis against the King's hand, I felt a second pair of hands on my right foot, removing my slipper and rubbing tiny circles at the overly sensitive skin at my ankle. Once my left shoe had also gone and both feet were in John's hands, I felt wet lips trace kisses up my left leg, stopping when he reached my inner thigh. He lifted my legs so that they were hooked over the sides of the throne and Richard retreated a little, allowing me to move my hips further forward as I lay spread across the large wooden seat.

John moved to the side of the throne and glanced briefly at the King. Both men stared down at me as I clutched at the bodice of my gown, pulling the laces clumsily through my fingers in an effort to loosen the corset that held me in place. 

John's rough hand met mine, carefully tugging each fastening and forcing the fabric apart. Sliding his hand beneath the gown, he sought out my nipples, pinching and pulling while I gasped for breath. His lips were at my jaw, tracing the angle of my chin and up to my neck and I was desperate for one of them to touch my sex again. 

"Fuck me, please?" I gasped, just as the King brought his lip down to my pussy, flicking his tongue playfully around my clit and groaning in satisfaction. 

"Not yet," King Richard growled into my searing wet heat as he plunged two fingers deep into me and drew my clit into his mouth. 

Moving his hand perfectly, back and forth, he fucked me relentlessly while John kissed me, licking a delicate stripe across my chest while he rubbed his calloused hands over my breasts. I fought to move but between the two of them I was locked in place. My left hand reached out for John, finding him hard beneath his breeches and I rubbed and squeezed his cock as he ground against my fingers.

My pleasure was forming in jolts and waves as these two virtually identical, beautiful men worked me. I wanted them both inside me, I wanted to feel their weight pressed up close to me, to sit astride one while the other watched and drew his own pleasure from seeing me wring an orgasm from his companion. 

The King's fingers curled inside me and as he sucked hard on my clit I fell apart, coming in deep shudders and waves of pleasure that made my feet and hands numb and my head spin. John held me tightly, kissing my neck while I moaned and shook, while the King rode out my climax, slowing his movements and slowly drawing his hand out from under my gown. As he stood, John quickly jumped up, leaving me bereft of his touch and his kisses, but grabbing Richard's hand and devouring my juices from his glistening fingers. I shuddered again at the sight of them. 

I sat, panting and exhausted, placing my feet back on the floor and watching the men. King Richard once again drew close to John and this time their lips met, briefly, and I knew they could both taste me. 

"Who are you?" The King demanded in a rasping whisper, attempting, although not quite succeeding, to dominate the other man.

"My name," John began, "is Khan."


End file.
